The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, March 27, 1913, Image 14

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

those years could be wiped olit oncemore! Hesaw?lier now as1 he;"'satmusing ihr' his study, ''passing Ipwnthe village street, swinging her sunbonnjjt; he saw the shy, quick glancethat she would cast up at him. Hehad those letters that she had written to him, breathing so many hopes,in the drawer of his desk.He hadnever destroyed those; they weresacred to him.His wife would not return for threedays. Why, then, should-he not goto her, to Clayton, the village of theirbirth, and see her as she was now,recall the thousand memories of theirlove, steep his soul in those passionate memories which would encouragehim to take up the burden of lifeanew? He sat down at his desk andwrote her a letter at ,a thousand en?dearments. He wascoming;back toClayton, he said. Wpuld she .meet"him just at the placewjiere they usedto' meet, at the hottoih-of the gardendividing the two cottages? And WouldshVwear tljatsunboniiet?. And wouldse forget the.years thaiiiad escapedaid .pretend that they were boy andgirl together again in- Clayton?' No sooner had he posted "that letter than, the plan becoihe overwhelming -in its insistence. He, .thrust afew things into his suitcase, descended in :the. elevator, hailed' a, taxicab,and was on his way to the station. Hewas singing as he entered .the broadmarble - portals. The ticket agentstared at him; he might have been abridegroom off for his honeymoon.'Ten minutes later he was Seated inhis ca watching the -flyinglandscapeas the'-train steamed through, thepleasatit, country on its way .toward,the little-Pennsylvania village.It was !a:,six .hours' run. Croft'sheart was beating fast when at last,'vrell toward sundown, the train slowed down and ran into the little station. He left his suitcase at the station, directing that it should be sentup to the house where he had beenborn. -The little tumble-down cottagehad long been empty, for his parentshad died since his first departure butreasons ipfjsentiment had preventedCroft from" selling it; 'besides, he hadalways resolved one day to retUrnthere to live. He made his way downthe village street under the long shad?.ows of the elm.It was a long street, and before he7had reached the end. the smr had. sett'The gracious twilight.- of springshrouded all things in mystery. Theplace had not changed at all. Hemight have bcen returning, thither"from college": All- sense?'of the intervening years had leftrhim. At last hewas standih'g-.at the'-'bottom of Mildred's garden."Mildred!" he called.Then his heart pounded violentlyinhis breast as he saw a slim figure ina sunbonnet start out of the-houseand move toward him with the old,leisurely grace. And so she passed between the borders of flowering lilacancj at last stood before him. .Why,.!this was his Mildred, unchanged.,well, hardly changed, and not at all tohim. He knew now that he would loveher until he died. x K"Mildred!" he cried, and then hehad clasped her in his arms and her,heart was beating against his own. ,And for a.long time they, forgoteverything, save that they two stood ,tnere togetner as tney once naa done."John, deaf," she whispered, look-iing into his. eyes. -"Mlldred!""Jt has been all a mistake, hasn-'lit? It was the ciythat 1111164' our"love. .Dear, you don't know how happy -yourletter made me. If we couldalways live ?her' together!" , , ?i-. "Dear." he said, softly. "I want votnflo know one thing. "I always loved"5you. Sometimes, wnen we, were least3happy, I fancied that there were, two 3Mildreds my wife and the tsweetrAheart who came from, Clayton t'o--marryme five years ago-Bjit nowthey are both, one and we5 will livehere together, and -start our. marriedlife anew." . " .. (Copyright by W. G. Chapman.) ItV